notallofus | Post-Rise of the Old Masters

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Post-Rise of the Old Masters

It's the unexpected resurgence of old loss that stings, and he can't seem to shake it. Even knowing about the existence of the Inquisitor, and that he's not going to stop coming for them -- for Ezra -- lacks some immediacy in the upwelling of a fresh feeling of being alone in the galaxy.

He'd thought for a minute that someone else was out there, someone experienced, a leader who could --

Admit it, Jarrus. You wanted someone who could take over for you, so you could go back to being a padawan, or maybe not even that.

It's going to stick with him, that frustration with both the situation and himself, and in order to try to do something productive with it, he goes to find Hera.

(He always goes to find Hera.)

"Did we get a signal out yet?"

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She listens, following as much as she can. It makes sense, she supposes - any kind of power can corrupt. One having the ability to use the Force wouldn't necessarily mean they'd do good with it.

But again, she's not sure how exactly to ask what she's thinking.

After a pause, she settles on, "Why aren't there more of them?"

"I don't know," he says. "I never really thought about it before. We didn't really talk about them much, except as a warning. Maybe they consume themselves, so a lot of them die young."

Or --

"Or it's easier to turn people than it is to start them off on the path to Darkness. And without the Jedi and other training grounds for Light-side Force users . . . "

"Maybe there are fewer to corrupt," she finishes.

"But then -" She looks back up to Kanan. "Who are the ones we're seeing now?"

"I really don't want to think about that."

Children with Force-sensitivities alone out there, untrained, untaught, taken by the Emperor and warped to fit his agenda?

Other padawans and Knights and maybe even Masters giving in to despair and rage and pain and. . . no. They wouldn't. None of them.

Would they? No.

"Force-sensitives have always been born, even without being Jedi. Maybe those . . . "

She wants to nod. She nearly does, reflexively. What does she know about this? And what difference does it make n-

"I was fifteen when the Perilous went down."

Hera's eyes drop to the floor.

Kanan flinches.

"Yeah."

Apparently he's not going to be able to avoid thinking about this.

"The Inquisitor definitely wasn't younger than me," he says.

There might be other ways to put that, better ways, but that's as close as he can get in this moment.

Hera takes a deep breath, and straightens from the wall. "All right."

Maybe they had to face this. But she also feels that she may have been right, who they are isn't important right now. Or at least, it's not what they need to focus on.

"What are we going to do about this?"

"Running isn't actually going to work. Or -- maybe it would work, but it'd leave our actual work undone, so I'd -- "

Part of him can't believe he's saying this, but the rest of him is completely in tune.

"Rather not."

"So we're not running."

Hera keeps her eyes on him now. "Is there something we can do? To prepare, for the next time we run into this?"

"Well, you've already -- I mean, we've already -- you're as prepared as anyone can be for what's going to happen if this kind of thing catches you."

He exhales.

"For the others -- smoother, sharper extraction plans that take avoiding someone like me into account. And training Ezra even harder so that he's less . . . vulnerable."

Hera nods.

"And what about you?"

His face settles into firm lines, because this part, at least, he's certain he can do.

"I train, because I can't afford to be rusty anymore. Not with the lightsaber, not with the Force. There's no room for that."

Lifting Ezra back up into the ship shouldn't have taken nearly as much out of him as it did.

"Then that's what we focus on now."

There's a pause, but then she tries a hesitant smile.

He musters a smile in return, because he can't not.

And it helps. A little.

"At least it's the start of a plan."

"That's always what's important."

She waits another second, then takes a step toward him. "Knowing what you're going to do next."

He shifts as if to give her more space.

"You've got a concrete idea?"

He's going to be ecstatic if she says 'yes'.

"My idea is mostly 'be ready.'"

She folds her arms again, and shrugs. "And it's not the worst one."

"No, it really isn't."

He doesn't laugh, but a little of the tension leaks out of him. It kind of had to.

"I think that's the gist of my idea, too."

Hera nods.

And maybe she could leave it there. But her eyes fall, and her smile fades. She watches the floor for a long moment, as she thinks back. Back to Ryloth, to fire crackling behind low voices, to the clink and bustle of cantinas. To every story she'd heard, and the ones she'd never pursued.

"Kanan, I -"

She closes her eyes again, but then lets out a breath, and shakes off her hesitancy. "My father knew a name. For the one that came to Ryloth."

Edited 2018-01-21 03:50 (UTC)

"A name?"

Well, that's . . . is it good? Is it bad? He doesn't know.

"And he told you?"

She nods.

"It can't be a real name. But I've heard it since then. Not the same way, not with what my father saw. But - like a storm. It just wipes out everything in its path, like there's no fighting it. I never even tried to follow up on it, I knew... "

Hera trails off. Because maybe she knew then that this was some part of the Empire she couldn't hope to fight. But she can't think that now.

"Well."

He swallows, straightening up and reaching out to center himself in the Force, because he's pretty sure he's about to need it.

"I don't think we're going to be able to avoid whoever it is now. Not if they come after us in earnest."

No, it's not.

And she knows it's silly, to still hesitate. It's not as though saying the name could matter, could somehow bring this specter down upon them. But every voice she'd ever heard of this had been hushed, and she can't quite shake the sense that she should do the same.

So again, she steps closer to him. She presses her lips together, and then looks up, meeting his eyes. And then she leans up to him, and whispers it.

One word. That's it. She moves back again, turning away, looking once more to the transmitter.

"I should -"

Kanan freezes, hairs rising on the back of his neck.

Well. Now he knows one name. A dark name.

Maybe they'll get lucky and never meet the man that accompanied the Emperor on Ryloth.

"Yeah. I should . . . find Ezra. We've got to get to work."